Scars, Knives, and Scalpels
by Butterfly Wolf
Summary: Well, my name is Scar. I’m seventeen, and GraveRobber’s assistant. I’m Amber Sweets sworn Enemy and Pavi’s best friend. Rotti Largo’s nameless intruder, and Luigi’s nightly fit. Too bad for me, Amber got empowered. Pavi/OC, Luigi/Amber, Gramber, Griloh
1. Chapter 1

Scar's and Knives

A Repo! The Genetic Opera fanfiction

By: Butterfly Wolf

Disclaimer: I only own Scar. Everything else is owned by the creator and producers of the movie. I make absolutely no money.

Authors Note: Please review, I'll go up to about three chapters, and if there's no review than that means it probably shouldn't stay up. Reviews means updates. Please read, enjoy, and review! First chapter is always kinda crappy, so please stick with me. Also! There is mention of Amber/Luigi, Amber/Graverobber, Pavi/OC, Graverobber/Shilo so…stay on guard!

Chapter One: Introductions

Well, my name is Scar. I'm seventeen, and GraveRobber's assistant. I'm Amber Sweets sworn Enemy and Pavi's best friend. Rotti Largo's nameless intruder, and Luigi's nightly bitch fit. I have a rather large scar that runs over the top of my eye, starting at the forehead and ending at my cheek. I also have SCAR carved into the underside of my left forearm, my most distinct characteristics. Although the one across my eye is hard to miss, I'm sure not many people to you with scar's would be something so memorable. Well, from what I know, you don't live in the world of GeneCo, where every imperfection, from birth to death, can and will be removed and surgically adapted. Most people find scars and imperfections now days as some kind of oddness, or disease almost. Well, hell, Pavi's face is all botched and scarred up and he steals faces to cover it he's so embarrassed by it! That's how fearful this world seems to be about scars and imperfections. But I'm not. No, in fact I hate GeneCo and all their cosmetics and covers, despite my involvement with its children. GeneCo has created a whole society where people have lost the meaning of consequences. Originally, years ago when I was but a baby, the world ran on consequences, where if you drank too much, your liver failed, if you smoked cigarettes, you'd get lung cancer. A world where people (for the most part), paid for their actions in the end. People learned that in the end, we are alone, with nothing but what we did do, haven't done, and couldn't have done to haunt us. Not anymore. Now the world runs on money and debts, the Repoman and the Surgeons. And this is the story about how me, a little'ol Zydrate dealer, got thrown into it all, and the consequences I will forever pay for MY actions against the great and impowered Amber Sweet.

"Show me the dough, and I'll show you the "Z"." I commented dryly, watching the scalpel slut wither at my feet, pawing at my belt line. I'm rather short for my age, so her actual face to about my abdomen.

"Come on, sweety, there's got to be some other way we can do thisss…You've got to keep that "Z" somewhere on your person…how bout I just rub until I find it, hmm?" I tried not to sneer. Briefly, I thought about merely throwing her off, but then a rather wicked thought struck me. I had been watching too many Classic movies and hanging around GraveRobber, for a devious idea entered my head, a scene I thought I could mimic a bit from an old movie.

Letting my leather gloved hand slide into her hair (cause if it wasn't gloved, I wouldn't have touched it), I lightly pressed her head against my clothed flesh, a grin spreading across my face.

"What bitch, you think Imma let you get off with just rubbing me? You gotta do better than that." I growled, spreading my stance slightly. Of course, the whore instantly got the jest of my hint and started mouthing at my crotch, and I had to once again force my lunch back down, secretly making plans with a bleach bottle.

"If that's what you want, hunny, then that's what you get…" She whispered, her hands slowly, seductively running up my pant legs toward my belt. I tolerated it, for a moment, grinning and moving my fingers through her hair.

"Ahh, but what about what you want, my dear? What are we gonna do about that…" I questioned lightly, making sure none of her filthy fingers actually made contact with my skin.

"Mm…you know what I want…" She moaned, her hands actually starting to undo my pants, and here was where the game ended. Roughly, using my well hidden strength, I threw her off of me, laughing sadistically.

"You make me sick!" I laughed, giving her sprawled form and insulted face one last look before turning the corner, quickly fixing up my belt as I moved onto my next alley, hopefully attracting a better class of customers.

"Didn't take you for the fuck and leave kinda guy" Commented GraveRobber dryly from the shadows, and, of course, nearly making me jump a foot in the air at the suddenness of his appearance.

"Ugh, save your scary shit for dead-beats. And you know me, I don't kiss and tell." I muttered back, finally getting my belt back where it should be, the Zydrate held securely by it at my hip.

GraveRobber gave a bitter and rather loud laugh, his boisterous personality coming out in all of his actions. Still grinning ear to ear he came to walk by my side.

"Kiss and tell, hmm? What'd she do, get to your belt and throw herself off? Your that small, hmm? You and sluts really don't mix well."

Of course, at the slight banter, I grinned, even though I saw the impending doom as we turned down the corner. Here, in GraveRobber's signature Alley, was the signature name of Scalpel Slut, and my sneer was instantly on my face. Amber Fucking Sweet, and her two little body guards. Our eyes briefly met as she rubbed herself against one of the slightly dressed men at her side.

"Well, since me and sluts tend not to get along too well, dear Employer, I think I'll leave this Mistress to you." I said quickly, moving to turn around and head to some other back-way. But, unlucky for me, GraveRobber caught my arm.

"Hang on now, Sweet is going to want to Sweet talk me, so you stick around and sell out while I'm busy with her." He whispered quietly, indicating to the rather large crowd of Zydrate addicts huddled in the Rehab alley.

I groaned, GraveRobber letting go of me to strut slowly over to Amber, my sneer firmly in place as I watched the scene. I had a deep feeling this wasn't going to end well. Mainly because I wasn't the kind of guy that was able to keep his mouth shut around people he didn't really like. And although that was usually fine in my line of business, Zydrate addicts don't give two shits what you call them or say to them, just as long as they get their hit, Amber Sweet was different. Even if she didn't remember you mouthing off in her heightened state, one of her little man sluts would, and slander was a punishable act.

Still sneering, I shifted my leather trench-coat to get my Zydrate gun out, pushing one of my vials into it.

"Alright Ladies, Happy Hour is in, give me your cash to clock in and I'll give you your shots to clock out!" I yelled loudly, instantly surrounded.

"Me first, stupid cunt! Here Scar, hit me good." Moaned one, after shoving another to the floor. I raised an eyebrow, aiming at her juggler. I wasn't one to flirt with them and hit their thigh veins like GraveRobber.

Speaking of GraveRobber…

In a small corner, against a wall, Amber Sweet was…handing out some of her Sweetness for a hit, my friend easily falling into her trap, literally. I sneered at the sight. Man, you'd think the guy'd have higher standards than that. Then again, in our business, there really is no high standards. Your surrounded by nothing but sluts, people willing to do anything for a hit, and it disgusted me. Like GraveRobber, I often wondered why I ever got involved. But then I always realize, there's no other life I'd rather prefer. I'm not a person who wants a calm life, or a rich life. I don't want things handed to me, I don't want to work my whole life to achieve a decent job, I don't want to come home to the same shit every day, I don't want regularity, and I don't want constants. I want adventure and danger, I want a real life. I'm not a zombie, I'm alive and happy with it.

And with that in mind, I let out a laugh.

"Remember Ladies, I don't accept coupons, you pay with CASH now or never!" I yelled, my gun getting low from the continuous shots.

In the dark corner…

"Graverobber…" Moaned out Amber, pressing her hips against his. He grinned down at her, his eyes amused.

"Yes miss Sweet?"  
"I need a favorr…" The R was drew out like a sinful purr as she rubbed against him, obviously trying to distract him from her next words. Although his eyes glazed a little bit, they did little more, his frame staying the same.

"Yes?" He asked, making sure his voice wasn't wavering.

"I need a hit tonight, in my room. And I need it late." She whispered against his mouth, her eyes fluttering at him. Graverobber had stopped buying it however, the seriousness of the words sinking in and was now looking at her rather boredly.

"Then buy a whole vile." He stated simply, shifting a little away from her.

"Havent the money on me, and I know how you are about…" her hand trailed down to his crotch, making his eyes briefly widen. "…punctuality." Grab.

Graverobber closed his eyes.

"And your solution?" he asked, grabbing her wrist and removing it, expecting some kind of fit from the rejection but getting none.

"Come to my room and give me some."  
Graverobber sneered.

"My face is posted all over the city, wanted by your dear daddy's force. I'm not walking into a trap." He growled, his eyes quickly moving away from her dilated ones. He had his limits, the girl could go fuck herself. He had whores all up and down these streets willing to pay him to stick around and he wasn't giving up his working hours to go get her a good buzz – it'd be a rather stupid financial move.

Amber though, was starting to throw that fit he had originally expected.

"I'll pay you extra and give you some!" She growled, going to force his face back to hers. But Graverobber sneered at her and pulled away, his sneer quickly vanishing back into his amused look, trying to make it out that the woman hadn't phased him.

"Sorry dear, but your all checked out." He muttered, about to turn around.

"THEN SEND THAT LITTLE SCAR FACED BRAT YOU KEEP!"  
She finally yelled at him, getting the attention of not only Scar, who looked up rather alarmed, but also several buzzed out addicts at his feet.

Graverobber turned then, very slowly and with a very angry look upon his face.

"You'll get my answer."


	2. GeneCo

Scars, Knives, and Scalpels

A Repo! The Genetic Opera fanfiction

By: Butterfly Wolf

Disclaimer: I only own Scar. Everything else is owned by the creators and producers of the movie. I make absolutely money.

Authors Note: Please review!

"You have got to be shitting me!" I yelled, clearly angered.

"Scar, she's the best paying customer we got."

"I DON'T GIVE A SHIT! She's a GeneCo whore, Scalpel Slut, Daddy's Bitch, Whiney, Bratty, Zydrate addict FUCKFACE!" I yelled, my wind pipes feeling a little assaulted by their rough uses. GraveRobber's eyebrows shot up, and his amused face at my many name callings just made me even more irritated. Stomping up to him, I pointed a bare finger into his face.

"Look god damn it, I'm not the fucker that sleeps with her! You like her so damn much, you go give her the blue! I don't care about money, and I don't care about her! I want nothing to do with it!" I Growled, backing away a bit. The amusement in his face was gone, but he didn't seem offended.

"I cant go give it to her, Scar, the GeneCo cops have my mug all across that building. If Daddy caught his little girl's main dealer I'm in deep shit." He argued, and all I could do was look at him in amazement.

"AND ITS DIFFERENT IF THEY CATCH ME!?"

"Your sneakier than I am!" He yelled back.

"Flattery will get you nowhere!"

"Come on, Scar…"

"Take a glowing blue vial, and…SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS!"

"Please?"

I sneered.

….

"Fine. BUT I GET THE WHOLE SALERY, NOT JUST HALF! You suckin brain juice from some corpse isn't getting you a cut in me sneaking into the tightest kept cunt-I mean house in the whole fucking city!"

"…" Then GraveRobber gave a sigh, and his head dropped.

"deal, just as long as she keeps coming around. Maybe if I'm lucky she'll get as addicted to you as she is too me." Muttered GraveRobber as he moved to walk into our apartment.

I made an utterly disgusted face, my dinner actually rising in my throat.

"Yeah right, like I'm letting that surgical, STD ridden thing near my most precious parts." I answered as I fallowed him inside.

Graverobber did have mug shots all over the city, not that it scared him much. But waltzing up to the Largo Family Mansion full of bodyguards and GENterns would be suicide. Scar did not have mug shots or wanted posters. Scar had never been caught, seen, or acknowledged by anyone but those he wanted to be seen by. Except once. One night, long ago, when Graverobber had been ran dry and left at the pity of Amber's sickness, he ran into an equally challenged human being bleeding from the face. Originally, he had thought it was a scalpel slut that had went wrong, but when he touched the sobbing boy's shoulders, and the child raised his face, he realized how wrong he was at the sight of the large gash over the boys eye.

Scar was one of the only people left in this world that Graverobber knew that still had morals. Morals to an extent, I mean, the kid did help him sell a drug that was harvested from dead bodies. Not that Scar would ever go down and near the dead bodies, he just helped Graverobber sell. Scar had a thing about dead bodies, said it was disrespectful and stupid to go playing around with them. But that was what he loved about Scar, Scar wasn't a great guy by any means, but he had morals. He wouldn't play with dead bodies, he wouldn't have surgery, he had the money to get fixed but wouldn't. Scar, even at the moment Graverobber had sent him on the mission into the Mansion, had a broken toe he refused help with. Scar refused to be fixed, because he said it never really made anything better. When Graverobber had first met Scar the boy had been thirteen, he was sick, skinny, and with a large bleeding cut over his eye. He was skinny, but not without muscle. And grace. The boy was an acrobat, something Graverobber quickly learned, and was also very good at combat and martial arts. So the mystery was…who would throw out such a good and talented boy? Graverobber never knew. And he knew he was the boys only friend.

Today, Scar stood about 5'5. He always wore black, for it helped him blend better. His trademarks were his scarred eye, his black leather trench-coat with various Wiccan designs, and his black fedora hat. He was sneaky, snarky, fast, and dangerous, and certainly good to keep around. But was he good enough to sneak into the tightest kept house in the whole town? They'd soon find out.

"Frickity fuck!" I growled, snatching my mask out of the dresser door. It was a plain black, cloth, small mask that covered only my nose down. It looked almost like a flat cloth surgical mask, or actually more like a ninja mask. It was almost pointless to wear it. Anyone who worked in the Zydrate department would just recognize the scar over my eye, but maybe I would be lucky. Besides, all that mattered was that Amber would recognize me. I really hated that bitch, I mean like ARGRHAHAHA! hate. Major psychotic fuckin hatred. She was the exact symbol of everything I hated in this world we live in and now I had to go serve her ass like some fucking GENtern. Well fuck that, I decided. If I was going to go do something I hated, I was going to do it drunk.

And with that, right before putting on the mask, I did seven shots of Tequila and filled my flask before sneaking out my window to make it look like nobody even left.

I looked like an assassin, I reasoned as I sat on top of the building across from the GeneCo building. I sipped on my flask. Yup, a damn, dirty, drunk, assassin. And I might get shot like one too, especially in the garb I'm wearing. That'd be a hell of a headline.

"Largo Family Guards Shoot Zydrate Dealer, Mistaken For Assassin!"

And just how the fuck was I suppose to know which of the thousands and thousands of rooms which ones were hers!? Better yet, how was I suppose to know when she was home!?

Oh well.  
Hell, I had enough alcohol in me, they could shoot me and just sniff my blood and get a bit buzzed!

With a sadistic laugh, I put my flask away and stood up, swaying slightly as I made my way to the next roof over, doing several jumps and steps until I found a short enough one to get back to the street. Well, I suppose I'd walk in and we'd see what happens.

I had never been inside the GeneCo building before. Never had surgery, never seen one of their GenTerns, never been around it or inside it. In fact, on the street I often made jokes about the building being Hell itself. People thought Hell had Seven floors, I thought it had as many floors as Rotti Largo could fit onto one building. Sell your soul to the devil for Genetic Perfection. I'm sorry, but the Largo's really made me sick. And what made me even more sick was now I was getting paid to come and serve them. Now I was no better than a GeneCo whore myself. And I hated whores.

I had a sneer the whole walk to the entrance. Outside, were beggers, many I had seen before on the streets. Scalpel Sluts looking for a free slice. Fortunately for me, most people addicted to the knife were also addicted its great cousin, Zydrate.

Growling roughly, I grabbed a regular off their front step, dragging her scandalizing dressed form against the cement wall behind her, giving the most likely numb body a slam.

"How do I get in!?" I hissed, making sure my scar, although not very well hidden, was prominent in her view. The girl swallowed, and she eyed me up and down.

"Corporate and I'll give you a free hit later. Don't, and I'll give you a knifing you'll never forget." I hissed, pulling out one of my blades, the girl's eyes instantly widening with realization.

"Where do you need to go?" She whispered, eyeing the gleaming object I pressed against her. I growled again.

"Sweet."

"Floor thirty seven."

I gave her one final, disgusted look, before letting go and turning to the building entrance once more. I herd the distinct slunking noise of her body hitting the ground after I had let go, but didn't look back. Nope, no looking back now.

The automatic doors of GeneCo opened, twenty people, myself included, walking in and out of the several sets of them. Inside was an instant aroma of anesthetics, blood, and surgery, and it made me sick. I hated the smell of doctors and imperfections.

If I wasn't drunk, I'd have been a lot more nervous than what I was. For none of the zillion of armed, barely dressed GENterns had any affect on me. The idea was to keep cool and act like I knew what I was doing, and while most of them had some kind of cover over their eyes, I thought I felt them watching.

So, I closed my eyes and pretended I was elsewhere. The whore had said 37th floor, now I knew, from seeing the outside of the building, there was a rather fancy elevator near. Opening my eyes, I decided to try and locate it.

There really are no words for the entrance to the GeneCo building. It's almost like its so fancy its trash. Its…disgusting. The wallpaper and look of the whole scene is retro, but all the equipment lovingly put on show is worth more than my life.

Life…well. It probably wasn't going to be worth much here soon anyway. The man standing at the elevator had a fully automatic handgun and a mustache that looked like it had aspirations of going off and forming its own colony. Nope, my life wasn't going to be much worth at all here soon. Well, I suppose if you wanted to get technical it would be worth about one Zydrate vile.

"Destination?" Asked the man with the gun, his eyes not even moving to me. I was the only one stupid enough to be standing outside his elevator, so I assumed I was the only son of a bitch the guy had to inquire about. Alcohol tended to have that affect on me. Naturally I'm a pretty fearless guy, but alcohol made me think I was Jesus.

"Delivery for Amber Sweet, requested personally." I answered, as not to get my…package (cough) taken from me. At this, the man's eyes did finally turn to me. He ran his eyes over the length of my body, as if sizing me up and down. I swallowed then, the nervousness actually starting to come through at the idea of the power and amount of ammo probably kept in a single cartridge of that automatic in his hands. Finally his eyes rested on mine, and I saw them distinctly move to the scar over my right one, and then a sort of satisfaction took the man.

"Proceed." He commanded, the elevator doors opening behind him without a single movement from the man. Stepping backwards into the now open elevator, he gave me a look.

I startled a bit.

"Coming." I said, quickly stepping in to join him.

And now going from level One of Hell to level Thirty Seven, I thought to myself.

Speaking of levels of hell, where was my elevator music?

Looking at the mustached man, I thought better of asking.

Finally there was a distinct DING of the door, and they opened.

I swallowed, instantly feeling like I had just jumped into the snake pit. Willingly at that.

Behind the doors was an even worse decore than the first floor. It was fluffy, sexy, and sweet, and so utterly girly and sluty I tried not to sneer. Yes, this ahem…opening floor of Amber Sweets pretty much summed up the girl for you. The couch was old fashioned, antique, but with the modern retro this whole building seemed to have. The fire was fake, the television took up the wall, only showing replays of things and comments Amber had made to reporters. GeneCo trademarks stained the room, and to the left was a opened door leading to a bedroom with a bed that was hanging from chains in the ceiling. Raising my eyebrows, I thought that was actually kinda nifty.

"There you are!"

I jumped, turning. The elevator's mustache took this opportunity to push me out of his elevator (well he needed room to grow!) and onto Amber's floor, nearly at her feet.

I held my breath and made a disgusted look, quickly struggling back to my feet in fear of touching her…imitated skin. Now, closer than I had ever wanted to be to the She Devil, I stood face to face, her multi-colored eyes staring coldly into my ice blue ones.

She reeked of sterilization. That smell that all doctors and GENterns have, that smell of complete sterilization, death to all inferior creatures and life that lives off of us. The smell of rubbing alcohol and clean scalpels. I swallowed, trying to keep down the large amount of liquor I had in my stomach.

"I knew I couldn't trust you. Your not half the man GraveRobber is." Commented Amber, swaying her hips as she strutted to her loveseat, instantly taking a completely sexual pose as she lounged. For a second, I was happy to have her out of my personal space until I took notice of the position she was laying in, especially with her…attire. I had to hold down my liquor again.  
"Well, you'd know all about GraveRobber and his manliness, wouldn't you?" I hissed back, deciding since I was already in the snake pit, I might as well bite back with a little venom of my own.

But, sadly for me, my venom didn't seem to have the affect on her I was hoping for. Instead, she just fluttered her overly masquerade eyelids at me and tilted her head.

"Ohhh, I would. Would you, tag-along?" She purred at me, making my blood boil at her insinuation. But I played it off, shrugging my shoulders with dis-interest and calmly walking over to her.

"Nah, ain't my type. But I'd take a Graverobbing Zydrate dealer over the over-sweetened plaster-infested Largo Scalpel Slut any day. " I growled, face to face with the whore once more. Her eyes flashed, and a grin slowly broke across her face.

"Kneel, hit me, and leave." She ordered, spreading her legs invitingly.

I made a very plain impression of my disgust, earning another glare from her.

"Now, Scar Face!" She hissed, scooting closer to me.

I let out another disgusted noise before quickly kneeling before her, making sure to put on my leather glove before touching her thigh to find the vein.

"Ohhhh, that's it, Scar, right there." She moaned tauntingly, smirking down at me. I sneered back up at her, not that she could see through my mask, but my eyes were enough. Growling, I quickly stabbed the needle into her, causing her to give a real gasp.

"Hope they skin your face off, Scalpel Slut." I hissed as I pushed the liquid into her. Slowly, her eyes dilated and started to roll back. I sneered again, shaking my head.

Fucking disgusting whores.

Sighing, I put my gun back on my belt, disconnecting the left over vile from it as I rightened myself, cracking my neck for emphasis once I reached my full height again. Walking quietly over to the elevator, I was just about to press the button when –

SLAM!

One of the doors to the right opened, my head instantly snapping to see who it was. But no one was there, my eyes shot then to Amber, who now seemed completely coherent and awake, smirking at me.

"LUIGI! INTRUDER!" She screamed, yelling in the direction of the opened door.

My eyes instantly widened, and she laughed at my look of terror.

Double Crossing Bitch!

I turned back to the elevator but saw it was already rapidly approaching the floor. That couldn't be good. Damn that bitch had strong lungs. Giving her a glare, I turned and make a break for her bedroom, hoping to find some sort of exit through there.

I ran, my gloved hands pressing desperately against the walls searching desperately for a hidden door of some kind. Suddenly, a wallpapered door opened right in front of me, lucky for me hiding me in the process as the oldest Largo child stepped out.

"The fuck you yelling about sister!" yelled Luigi, his shirt ripped open as usual as he strutted into the room I just came from. I turned quickly and slid into the opening, closing the door quietly behind me. As the door was closing, I herd distinctly Amber's voice once more.

"You let the fucker pass you, stupid fuck!"

I growled, realizing now the set up she had set for me. She had made the other door open in hopes to scare me into her bedroom, where her and her sick and twisted older brother, had a secret connecting door between their two bedrooms. Yelling for him, she hoped the murdering son of a bitch would be bright enough to catch me. Too bad for him, he wasn't. Turning, I grabbed one of the various implements of torture Luigi had about his room and pressed it against the hidden door, blocking it from opening as I slowly backed away. As soon as it was there, there were various voices and cussings on the other side.

I gave a sigh of relief, slowly backing out of the room. Finally, my back hit a wall, and I calmly slid down it, deciding to relax a bit before the brilliant heirs of Largo had the intelligence to call for back-up. If Luigi's ego would allow it, that is. Stupid bitch. That cunt outside the fucking building could have told me that ALL of the Largo children shared the same floor. Wait a minute, all of -

"And Who-a is this?" Asked a rick and high pitched voice to my right.

I swallowed.


	3. The Blue

Scars, Knives, and Scalpels

A Repo! The Genetic Opera fanfiction

By: Butterfly Wolf

Disclaimer: I only own Scar. Everything else is owned by the creators and producers of the movie. I make absolutely money.

Authors Note: Thank you for the review! It got #3 up! And of course I'm a Devils Rejects fan - *sadistic grin* Please review!

Chapter Three:

"And who-a is this?" Asked a rich and high pitched voice. For a second, my heart stopped, and just started twitching hesitantly in my chest, undecided as to rather to stop beating all together or to start hesitantly back up. I slowly turned to…face the figure behind me, swallowing once again as I realized just who it was. Just as I feared…

Child Number Three was present.

When I finally came face to…face with the figure, my heart actually gave out. Face to face with the face-stealing Largo Middle Child. I swallowed. Well, GraveRobber, after this suicide mission you sent me on, dead or alive you might still see my face around town. "One of Sister's boy toys, yes?" Asked the tightly dressed…man as he approached me, looking me up and down. I obviously didn't hide my sickened look well enough when he mentioned his sister, for instantly his eyes lightened and he began circling me, like a lion and its prey.

"Or perhaps not…hmm…Pavi thinks you too-a skinny and frail to be a henchman…you druggie, no?" I licked my lips, my eyes wide as I looked the figure up and down. For the first time in my life, I admitted to be utterly and completely terrified. When was the last time you came face to face with a face stealing murderer!? Who wore them all around town and got away with it!? Didn't think so!

I tried not to shudder and decided to play off how much he really unnerved me with a sneer.

I slowly got to my feet, my sneer firmly in place. I removed my mask for emphasis, making sure the disturbed creature knew the measure of my dislike for him as I eyed him.

"You're a bit frail yourself, Princess. And no, I'm not a druggie. Stimulants and surgery disgust me, bit of a turn off actually." I hissed, deciding I had already been caught, no need to play it down now. The sound of Luigi cussing slowly stopped, and was replaced by other noises leading me to believe even more fully in the hinted incestuous relationship their hidden doors suggested.

The second son, Pavi, probably the most disturbed out of all of the largo children, seemed to give me another look over, taking a step closer to me before continuing to circle. I snarled, clearly not impressed with the closeness of the other male.

"Mmm…The Pavi smells different. For one so against stimulants, you-a smell-a lot like alcohol." He muttered, grinning beneath his mask at the knowledge. I gave him another sneer, taking a defensive position.

"Well, if you haven't noticed, I was on a kind of suicide mission anyways. Didn't think a few drinks before hand would still be affecting me anytime in the distant future."

He smiles at me, his eyes roaming my body again. His smile unnerved me tremendously, and it took all of my willpower to stand still when he reached a hand out to glide across my shoulder blade.

"Mmm…so tense. If-a Luigi caught you sneaking around his-a territory, it would be-a suicide mission indeed. Perhaps you have-a drink with the Pavi first before completing your mission, si?" I swallowed, looking at the eyes peeking out from under some poor deceased womans face. A drink? With a face-stealer? Well, then again, I did hang around with a guy who stabbed dead people in the brain and sold their juices. I shrugged. Eh, I've had worse.

Pavi's room's décor was a bit more manly than Ambers. Not much, but a bit. I wasn't really looking at the room though, being face to face with the man was just too unnerving. His…stolen face really just freaked me out. I didn't know how to act. Normally I'd be able to play it off if just a little bit, but I was intoxicated and he was trying to get me even more so. As soon as he poured the drinks I began wondering what I was like putting lips that weren't yours against a glass when you drank.

"You are-a entranced by the Pavi's face, si?" he asked, waving his hands rather dramatically as he did so. I swallowed, suddenly a little nervous about testing my luck with the truth.

"Doesn't it…hurt?" I asked, nodding toward the clips. I swallowed, watching his eyes carefully for changes in emotion or attitude. But they seemed to change none. He still held the same mild interest he started out with when inviting me into his rooms. His rooms reeked of sex, women sex at that, so briefly I wondered what exactly my purpose was at being in here.

"Si, si, the Pavi's face does hurt. But you…" He reached a perfect proclien hand out to me then, myself trying not to flinch as he ran his finger over the deep scar over my eye socket. His eyes looked dreamily as he traced it.

"Your face hurt-a too, yes?" he asked, his hand going to cup my cheek. Hundreds of things ran across my mind at that moment. How old was Pavi? Who's face was that? Was the second son of Rotti even into men? I backed away a bit from the man, making sure not to let terror show on my face, but only confusion.

"No…my face does not hurt. It's a scar, it healed up long ago and hasn't hurt since…I shouldn't be here, I delivered to your sister and now I really got to go…" I said, backing toward the door. His hand grasped my face a little more roughly then, advancing with me as I moved backward.

"But-a scars can-a still hurt. Mine hurt-a me every day." He whispered, his thumb brushing the bottom of the scar on my cheek. My heart stopped, and briefly I wondered if it was going to end up being me he wore. But then something clicked.

"Scars? What scars?" I asked, giving him a confused look. It was then that absolute anger entered Pavi's eyes and he ripped his hand away from me.

"Don't-a lie to t-the Pavi! You-a read what-a happened to his!" he yelled, advancing in a way that reminded me greatly of Luigi. I was suddenly pinned between a wall and him as he looked down at me.

"You're a lot taller than I imagined…" I muttered, unable to stop myself. Lucky for me, it brought a little bit of the anger out of his eyes.

"And no, I didn't read anything that happened to you. Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I hate publicity. I had publicity, authority, surgery, cosmetics, doctors and people. I'm not a nice person." I said, getting him to back off a bit.

"You-a cant be serious?! You-a don't read-a anything?" he asked, looking at me with what I assumed was a stunned look beneath his mask. His mask was really starting to unnerve me.

"No, I-I read, I just don't read magazines. I don't care what's happening in the world, we're all already doomed, why should I care about what happens in the meantime?" I asked, my drunkness starting to come out in my words. Usually I wasn't so forward with my views on life, especially to rich and complete strangers such as Pavi Largo that if he so wanted could end my life and steal my face at any second.

Pavi seemed to consider this for a second before looking me over again.

"How am I-a suppose to believe-a you?" He asked, eyeing me.

I swallowed, trying to think of a solution.

"Uhmm…well, hell, quiz me on something that's in a magazine?" I asked, shrugging at him. He gave me a contemplating look before putting his hand to his face in a over-dramatized expression of thinking.

"How-a old is-a my sister?" he asked, looking at me.

My eyes widened and I glanced around.

"Uhmm…I don't know, few years younger than you?"

"And-a how old is-a the Pavi?"

Now I really felt caught. I shifted my injured foot nervously.

"Ahm…half as old as Luigi?"

"And-a how old is-a Luigi?"

"…a third the age of your father?" I said nervously, looking at him pleadingly.

Pavi just seemed to stand there stunned for a moment before letting out a very stuck up snort.

"No-wah, you-a do not-a read magazines." He said, going back over to the bar.

"You-a owe me-a a drink, pretty one. What-a does the Pavi call you?" he asked, sitting upon a stool as he looked at me.

I sneered.

"Well, certainly not pretty. I'm not a girl." I muttered going to sit one seat away from him. Pavi gave me one of his famous pouts, and I sighed, sitting closer to him.

"Just call me Scar, everyone does." I muttered, glancing to see what drink he poured me. Smelled potent, I noticed.

"Scar? You-a let people call you-a that?" He asked, looking completely stunned. Maybe I had better down my drink before answering that question? With one throw back, it was gone. And I shuddered at the burn that went all the way to my toes from it.

"Woah!" I muttered, looking pointedly at my glass.

"The hell was that!?"  
"Papa's best, now-a why-a let such-a pretty self be-a called by one imperfection?" Asked the older man, pouring another drink into the glass in front of me. I gave it a contemplative look before looking back at Pavi.

"Its not an imperfection. It's a part of me. After one is cut the slice in the skin heals over and the flesh accepts the new part, closing over it and making it apart of itself. I don't see why the world see's all things that aren't smooth and beautiful as imperfections!" I yelled, having had enough of this world and its constant removal of oddities. And here in front of me stood one of the four biggest examples of it, and all I could do was glare at him as he looked at me almost preciously.

When I realized how he was looking at me, I suddenly felt very uneasy.

"Ahm…Pavi, what's that look for?"

"Y-you think-a Scars to be-a good, si?"

I gave him a confused look.

"I think scars to be a part of life, they aint good nor bad. A-and why do you wear that massssk?" Holy hell, I don't believe I had ever drank that much before. Graveroober was going to be pissed that I had dipped in his tequila, but that wasn't the problem. That blue shit was very rapidly finishing me off.

At that, Paviche Largo gave me a slow smirk, because he knew that the potent liquor he had given me was starting to kick in. Deeply. And as I slowly started to sink, from the bar stool to the floor, and from the floor to against a wall where I decided I might just spend the night, Pavi continued to grin. He fallowed me, every move I made, until I was terrifyingly close to the face-snatcher himself. However, I was too drunk to really care nor realize. No matter how fearful I knew I should have been, all I wanted was to go to sleep. Suddenly, I realized how old Pavi looked as he loomed over me. All of the sudden I felt every bit the age I was, seventeen, and being loomed over by a man. I was but a boy, I realized then, and something struck me. Actually, two things struck me. One, Paviche's love for fucking, and Two, our possible age differences.

"Pavi…" I slurred out, making him raise an eyebrow and smirk at me as he crawled even more over me, pinning me between the wall and himself as we sprawled amongst the floor. Briefly, I wondered if at any other point in this man's life if he had ever been purposely on a floor.

"How old are youu?" My vision was starting to blur as the world seemed to tip over. I herd his dark chuckle, watching as he stood then.

"We'll see-a tomorrow, eh?" He laughed, watching me as I slowly relaxed against the wall. Squinting, I gave him a confused look.

"Why do you have that ridiculous accent?" I forced out, probably my most sober sentence in the last ten to fifteen minutes since that blue shit seemed to kick in.

My question however was only answered by another laugh.

"Perhaps tomorrow-a"

And the world went black.


	4. Lavendar

Scars, Knives, and Scalpels

A Repo! The Genetic Opera fanfiction

By: Butterfly Wolf

Disclaimer: I only own Scar. Everything else is owned by the creators and producers of the movie. I make absolutely no money nor profit.

Authors Note: Well, I got an alert and favorite, so am posting another chapter. Reviews please! Good, Bad, Terrible? Let me know! Oh, and Scar will be eighteen before anything naught happens, so don't get any wrong ideas.

Chapter Four

It was morning, and yet no Scar had returned from the favor Graverobber had sent him on. Suddenly, he was beginning to worry. The kid had skill, he knew that, and he thought he knew that the kid could get out of almost anything. Apparently not, and he had been the one that had sent him out there! Guilt came very abruptly crashed down upon the man, and it made his stomach turn into a nauseating knot in his stomach. It had been all his fault, well, his and Ambers that was. What right did that bitch have to kill somebody she had asked to see? Where was the logic in that!? Graverobber sneered, making a mental note to try and refuse her service next time he saw her. He'd love to refuse it to her all together, but sadly for him Daddy's Little Girl had the manpower to have him forcefully dragged into the same death as his friend. Turning down Amber really was not an option, every time he tried her little Man-servants threatened him or she threw herself at him…another offer one shouldn't refuse, less she throw a fit.

Shaking his head, Graverobber thought for a moment about the most probable places Scar could be. Well, the GeneCo building, maybe still. Another Alley, or…well, the Grave-yard.

THAT WAS IT!

A smile appeared on the man's face as he hopped out of the dumpster, a loud crash initiating from behind him.

The Graveyard.

They had to have put the body somewhere, and he had to go harvesting anyway.

Scar Grateus

He was seventeen, a non-drug using drug dealer, who absolutely despised drugs. He had no first name, Graverobber had never herd it. He had no home, he had never seen it. He had been found one day, near a dumpster, against a wall, sobbing, with a bleeding cut stretched over the socket of his right eye. The Gods were crying for the boy, it seemed, for that day, it was pouring, the world mourning with the boy for whatever wrong he had suffered.

When the man had first reached out for the boy, he recoiled, spurring words of hate and cursing him, saying such things as "Filthy ass drug dealer! Fuck you! Don't touch me, you junkie!" Half of which didn't make since, words meant only for hurt and embarrassment, and nothing else. But the boy did not run, he merely pressed himself up against the brick wall behind him and glared at the older man, even as the blood dripped into his eye, he did not blink to stir, merely continued glaring through the tears, rain, and blood in his eyes.

Graverobber had wanted to deny his accusations but couldn't. He said that yes, he was a "Z" dealer, and yes, he was filthy, but he was still concerned. It just made the boy more suspicious as he eyed him. Graverobber had to sit outside with the boy for over three hours just to convince him to come inside his apartment with him where it was dry. The man didn't know why he did it, he didn't know what excuse his brain had for making him sit outside in the rain for three hours just to help some brat, but for some reason he couldn't turn away. Something made him stay there, something called to him. He couldn't just leave the boy to all but drown out here, and think about who could attack him! When he had mentioned it to the boy, he had given a bitter laugh and pointed to his eye.

"They already came." Had been his reply as he continued to eye the man. Graverobber continued to plea with him, but he just shook his head and kept watching him. There was something dead behind his ice blue eyes, something freshly dead. He had lost something, more than some blood from the wound on his face, more than tissue, something emotional had just been ripped from him and Graverobber wanted to know what. But the boy wouldn't tell. He just stood there, eyeing the man as he pleaded for him to follow him, just kept eyeing him as if looking for something. Maybe a reason to trust him, or maybe he was just a brat seeing how long he could keep him out there, but suddenly, around morning time, the boy's eyes changed, and he shrugged his shoulders. That was it, after Graverobber had just wasted half his fucking day, the boy shrugged his shoulders! Pushed himself off the wall and walked toward him, not saying a word, not doing a god damn thing! Just walked towards him and stared once more. And when Graverobber did nothing, except stare in awe at the boys gull, the boy raised an eyebrow.

"Are we going?"

He'd taken the boy in after that. When they had first gotten to his apartment, he had done nothing but stare at the numerous glowing blue vials left around the room. At first, Graverobber had thought he wanted some and just didn't have the balls to ask for any, but when Graverobber offered, the boy gave him the most anger, appalled, and disgusted look he had ever seen from him even to this day.

"No. Its fucking disgusting and I'd never touch it. But if you let me stay with you, I'll help you sell it. I'll never dip into it or give anybody a cut, just give me a place to stay and some form of work and I'll pay you back."

It was the most words Graverobber would hear from the boy in several weeks, but he accepted, not having it in him to turn down such a soul. And the boy stuck to it, he helped Graverobber sell and sell, never touched any vial he didn't intend on shooting someone else with, and never gave anybody a cut. At the end of the day, the boy handed over all his earned money to the older man, never saying a word. It would be another week before the boy told him to start calling him "Scar" instead of "Kid" and it'd be another year before Graverobber demanded Scar start taking some profit for himself. But even through the years, the growing, and the building of the boy, he never found out what happened to him. He never herd who did that to him, and why it was just a slash over his eye. He never found out what caused his hate for the blue drug, or any drug for that matter. All he knew was the he was a boy, and his name was Scar, Scar Grateus as he called himself, and that he was one of his best friends.

Hopefully not one of his diseased best friends.

I awoke with a headache and the feeling that I hadn't had a drink of water in days.

Groggy, I groaned and tried to maneuver myself out of the bed, so use to the prodding and ragged bed at Graverobbers, rolling out of this bed was a totally different experience. It was at that moment that my eyes shot open and I looked desperately around the room.

White! This room was white as hell! Or maybe it was just my hangover talking. Now I wasn't a virgin, but I had never slept around to the extent where I had woken up in rooms I didn't recognize. Swallowing, I winced at the dryness of my throat. As soon as I realized how dehydrated I was my stomach gave a loud growl, making me wince again. Well this was wonderful. Dehydrated, starved, and hung over. I really felt like I was going to die. Of course, right on time, my hurt foot gave a throb, and I groaned, pushing the sheet aside to see if it had swollen anymore.

"Thank goodness." I muttered, seeing one sock removed. Pavi had left my injured foot's sock on. I hated sleeping in socks, but I figured Pavi had seen the swollen foot and decided to leave a cover on it. I made a face at the thought of getting undressed by somebody I hardly even knew. Mmm, I felt violated. Sneering, I glanced around the room for my clothing. It was a really large and…well, beautiful room, if you took away its god-damned whiteness. Pavi's bed was large a large, four poster bed, with a beautiful covering on it, that had already been made. Pavi must have awoken and left earlier. Well, wasn't it nice of him to wake me and tell me what the fuck I was suppose to do in the meantime. Find my way home I suppose? Make my way through the GeneCo building like I owned the place, hoping Scalpel Slut and her Bad Boy Brother didn't find me? Lovely. Muttering I sat up and located my cloths across the room on top of Pavi's dresser. They looked…folded. And…ironed. And when I got closer and I held them up, I also noticed they had been washed, trench-coat, hat, and all, to the point of smelling like Lavender…

There were no words for it. I suddenly felt very unmanly as I looked the clothing over. I was suppose to walk around wearing…those!? Smelling like…a girl???

Just as I had unfolded my pants and held them up, the door slammed open. I jumped, quickly covering up my nudity with the article of clothing. GENterns. I sneered at them as they pranced their way into the room, pushing a cart with a plate full of food and a glass of orange juice.

"From Pavi!" Said one as they pushed the cart in front of me, the other one moving to pick up the priceless silver wear and started cutting the eggs. Eggs, bacon, toast, orange juice, and potatoes…"What!?" I said loudly, looking between the two of them.

"Paviche says that you dear had quite a night and would be very hungry and thirsty!"

I sneered at the smiling bimbo and roughly grabbed the sliver wear back from her.

"I'm a big boy god damn it, I can cut my own fucking eggs!"

"Well! Pavi likes his eggs cut!"

"Well, Pavi isn't…me." I was going to say something insulting but thought better of it as I realized that Pavi was the reason I had clean cloths and the best meal I had seen in probably years sitting before me.

I swallowed nervously, confused as to what to do. Anger, anger was the best approach. So, swallowing again, I sneered at the women surrounding me.

"Its alright, I swear I can handle it from here. I big boy, I feed myself and dress myself and SCRAM!" I yelled, pushing them toward the door. It wasn't my room, but damn it I wasn't even dressed!

"Hey! We have more a right to be here than you!" Said one of the red-covered girls as they strutted out.

"Yeah, well…take it up with Pavi!" I slammed the door, going back to sit in front of the cart of food.

I really didn't know what to do. Should I just sit there and eat? Eat then dress and what? Leave? Try and find my way out?

The door slammed open again.

"There's the little fuck!" Yelled a voice to my left, making me jump half a foot in the air. There was a very pissed looking Amber Sweet stomping toward me with her two little man whores.

I instantly started crawling backwards, in the process noticing my state of undress as I looked down at myself. Boxers, all I was still in were my boxers, and one sock. I sneered, briefly distracted from my impending doom to look at the sock that covered my injured foot. I hated sleeping in socks.

"Sister! Please!" yelled someone as they quickly ran in front of her and blocked the scalpel bitch from getting to me. Pavi! Pavi was a little more dressed than I was, he was in his usual old-fashion pants and a regular white tank top.

Now that it seemed like my life wasn't in danger, I had the gull to smile. That was kinda sweet and proper of him to do that for me, apparently he had gotten the idea that I would appreciate waking up with someone I had just met, Largo or not. Blinking my eyes against the brightness of the room, I let out a groan. This had to be the brightest room I had ever been in. Or maybe it was just my hangover talking…Muttering to myself I removed the blankets, going to get up and help defend myself as Pavi and his sister argued.

"Pavi! That little fucker was sent here to help ME!"

"Help-a You get-a HIGH! And-a then you-a sick Brother on him! He-a doesn't deserve-a that!"

"Oh and since when are you such a big fucking saint? Who's face are you wearing today, Brother Dear?"

"None of your-a business, Tramp!"

My eyebrows rose at that insult as I climbed into my pants before walking up to stand next to Paviche. He looked really funny angry, like a really dramatic Italian painting of an Opera or a play due to his mask. His mask was kept in a smiling position currently, so it really looked amusing. I felt kind of guilty for nearly laughing at someone fighting for what was probably my life, so I tried to shake it off.

"Why don't you take your boy toys and scram? I'm sure Luigi or Graverobber or whoever else you plan to fuck today's schedule can be arranged."

BAM!

Boy toy knuckle slammed into my face. It was a shock, but I recovered quickly, growling and kicking said bondage-freak in the nuts. When he curled down, I delivered a fallowing blow to the head with my knee-cap, knocking the man to about my height as he tried to remain standing. I smirked, sliding my hand into his hair as I pulled his face closer. I had broken his ridiculous sunglasses and was now looking into his pain-filled greenish eyes. Quickly I pulled my hand out of his hair and finished him off with one final hit in the face.

Just as I started to wonder why Boy Toy #2 hadnt stepped in (cause I knew I couldn't handle two of them), I realized Pavi was demanding him to stay back and Amber holding the large man at bay with a hand gracefully in the air as she continued to argue with him.

Mm, my nose was bleeding. Now that I wasn't fighting back, I noticed the damage I had taken. I glanced around the floor for my shirt to wipe it on as Pavi and Amber continued their yelling match.

"You-a take your-a man-whores and LEAVE-a SISTER!"

"I'll take my man-whores and snap your little fuck toy in two, Pavi! Do you even know how old he is?! You could be arrested!"

"I-a didn't even-a TOUCH him! He-awoke in-a different bed! He-a undressed himself!"

Suddenly all eyes were on me as they both turned to me, their eyes blazing.

"Uhh…I uh…yeah, I awoke in a separate bed…and uh.." I said, slowly backing away from the siblings. Sadly, they fallowed, Man-whores in tow.

"You undressed yourself in your sleep?!" Asked Amber, on hand on her hip as she took on the 'bitching stance'.

"I…uhm…I've done it before…" I said, trying to sound convincing as I backed myself into a wall. Suddenly I realized I was still shirtless and now had Two Largo's and a couple of man-whores staring at me.

"Hey! You're the ones staring at me bare nips! Turn your face!" I yelled at them, not really meaning Pavi since he had done nothing against me, but technically he was involved too. Surprisingly, the man whores did turn their heads away, but Amber just seemed to give him a glare while Pavi turned his head at a dramatized show of confusion.

"I don't know! If you want me to leave, that's fine! I need to get home anyway, but like just don't kill me!" I yelled, having enough of the sibling bickering. I never argued like that! And they were probably twice my age!...at least I thought they were.

"Like you even have anywhere to go, street-rat! What are you gonna go do, curl up with Graverobber in a dumpster and go back to sleep?!" Cooed the slut as she swayed over to me, making me sneer.

"Don't-a leave! Sister is just-a being a bitch!" yelled Pavi, grabbing his mirror quickly off the bed.

"Look! Sister gave-a the Pavi an unsteady look!"

"Pavi shut the fuck up! And you!" She pointed directly at me, her most likely diseased finger inches from my face.

"You leave here before noon! Or this time Luigi wont miss!" She hissed, turning on her heel and walking out.  
Dispite my hits to the man, the man whore who attacked me stood straight and walked out as unfathomed as he had walked in. Of course the broken sunglasses which sort of hung off his face now kind of ruined the bad-boy exterior, but he still held himself tall.

I sneered at them as they left, my eyes fallowing them out the door before falling back onto Pavi.

"So, you want to explain to me why I did wake up with half my cloths off?"


	5. Parenting

Scars, Knives, and Scalpels

A Repo! The Genetic Opera fanfiction

By: Butterfly Wolf

Disclaimer: I only own Scar. Everything else is owned by the creators and producers of the film. I make absolutely no money nor profit.

Authors Note: Thank you for the review, its why I posted this one and yes, Paviche I believe can be quite…vicious when he wants to be. I think Night Surgeon is proof of that.

I plan on going a lot farther than just Scar in this story. Scar is going to discover a lot about all of the Largo's and even Nathan and Shilo. There will be a bit of Mag/Nathan and some details about the influences on the Largo life. Also, from what I gathered Paviche is known to sort of act…childish on occasion, like manically. So I sort of added that a bit.

"The Pavi just thought-a you would-a be more comfortable in-a undergarments. Please-a, do not take-a offence!" Said Pavi as he moved closer to me, Amber and the man whores having have left just us in the room. I backed away instinctly, still a little freaked out by the man. Actually, more freaked out by him now that I was completely sober. I swallowed against my still dry throat, having not had a chance to drink from my orange juice yet. Nervous habit of mine.

Pavi's eyes seemed to take on a hurt look as I backed away and I shifted, trying to repair whatever I had done.

"I..ah..No, I'm not offended, just, ah…little violated feeling…" I muttered, moving to put on my shirt to cover myself. I quickly grabbed my hat too to put it on as well. Pavi advanced even further, my back sadly hitting a wall as I tried to avoid him.

"You-a are not-a leaving, are you?" he asked, his eyes taking on a nearly dangerous look as he questioned me. I swallowed again, feeling very much like a mouse in a trap, and Pavi was a very hungry…cat.

"I…ah…do need to go eventually, soon, actually, but…ah…if you want me too, I can…stay awhile?" I asked, trying to get the rather deadly look out of the middle Largo child's eyes. As soon as I said that, he went back to being as jolly as a child.

"Grande! You-a should finish your-a breakfast!" Said Pavi, turning with a swirl to sit on his bed, crossing his legs in a nearly feminine fashion as he made to watch me…Watch me eat?

"Your going to watch me eat?"

"Well-a, what-a else am I-a going to do?"

"…I don't know, what do Largo children usually do during the day?" I dragged the food cart to my cot and put a bite of egg in my mouth.

"Fuck." He said it so bluntly I nearly choked. Coughing, I downed half my glass of orange juice in an attempt to recover before looking at him.

"Your brother actually gets laid with that temper?! I'd be too afraid he'd suddenly get a hair up his ass in the middle of it and pull a knife."

"Brother-a is-a Largo, GENtern's fuck-a anything. And-a he has Sister." Again the bluntness was stunning. I always thought of Pavi as being the one who would probably sugar-coat everything to make it a little more dramatic, but apparently I was wrong. I was also wrong about his height too, that man was pretty tall. Something that had become increasingly prominent lately.

I ate another bite before replying, eyeing the man wryly as he watched me eat through his skin mask. Mmm…he was actually kind of hot, with his tattoos and decently built chest. All this was very prominent in the tank top he was wearing. His stringy black hair pushed behind his face…her face…See, now that had to be the ultimate turn off right there. See Scar, you start thinking those kinds of things and it could be your face.

I shook myself out of it.

"If you think GENtern's will fuck anything, then why do you fuck them?"  
"Its-a fun. What-a else am I-a going to do? You-a don't eat in my-a bedroom every day for-a me to watch."

My eyebrows rose at that comment and I decided to try and make a counter attack, because if he chose watching me eat over fucking a GENtern…well then this was just starting to get just a little too creepy.

"…you could do a puzzle?"

That got me a full hearty laugh from the man as he threw his head back, baring his throat to me. SCAR! YOU STOP THAT! I nearly slapped myself to keep my thoughts from running without my consent. It was all just because I hadn't gotten laid in a really long time, that was all! I'd just have to fix that…And not with a Largo!

"How old are you!?" I suddenly blurted, my question from last night popping back into my head. Pavi gave me a enticing grin before slowly standing and strutting over to me.

"How old-a are you-a??" He asked, leaning over me.

"I asked you first!" I backed away automatically, bending back onto the cot. Being acrobatic sometimes came in handy.

"But-a I am a Largo, I always-a go first." Was his reply with a smirk as he moved to sit down next to me. I was suddenly starting to feel violated again.

"Exactly, you tell me first." I said, swallowing right after wards as he reached a hand out to me, caressing my scarred cheek once more. Man, I didn't know where that hand had been! I wanted to remove it but…damn it, Pavi was just a little more frightening than Amber! I just held my breath and made a mental note to dunk my head in bleach later on that night.

"Hmm…The Pavi guesses you are-a about Seventeen. Pavi would have-a thought eighteen, but-a Sister's comment-a on your-a age made-a him think-a different. Not-a that it-a matters, Largo's can-a get away with anything-a. But-a, you do not-a strike me-a as being very fond of the-a Pavi." His other hand moved dramatically to emphasize his words and I raised an eyebrow at it.

Now what gave you that idea?? I swallowed, deciding to let him touch my cheek. It could be worse, or so I thought. I also decided to hold my tongue for the time being.

"Now-a you-a guess the Pavi's age."

"Uhm…thirty??"

"Scar!" He exclaimed, looking truly offended. He had ripped his hand back (thankfully) and pulled slightly away from me. I had the urge to either run through the window or make a break for the door but decided against either as he stared at me.

"The Pavi is-a not that-a old! The Pavi is but twenty-eight!"

"Pssht, I was two years off!" I exclaimed, scooting away from him too look at him disbelievingly…and to try and sneak to grab my trench coat.

"But-a the Pavi guessed yours completely correct-a."

"Well, with age comes wisdom." I retorted, making a break for my trench-coat, not knowing how he would react. He laughed, apparently amused at my snide remark, and made to grab after me.

"You-a are quite-a entertaining!"

"Apparently, if your willing to watch me eat over getting laid, I'd say I'm a fucking spectacle."

"Now-a, don't-a let your-a Ego get-a too bad. You-a will end-a up like-a my Brother." Said Pavi as he moved to stand, also heading toward his dresser, but instead of coming near me as I put on my coat, he merely opened up the third drawer and pulled out a neatly folded vest.

"Ehh, your brother has more than an ego problem. I think he has a compensation problem. People will small dicks tend to be a little more irritable."

"Not-a if-a he is-a really my-a Brother."

I raised my eyebrow at that comment as he winked at me. I was actually surprised at how quickly I had become comfortable talking to Paviche. I mean, every now and then I was still utterly struck with fear by the man, but then at other times it was almost like talking to GraveRobber. Just poking fun at each other and make snide remarks about this and that…Hmm, the situation suddenly made me kind of uneasy. And even more uneasy now that I was once again standing right next to Paviche.

"Mm, but-a you are-a so pretty…" Commented the man in a almost wistful voice as he raised that hand again to caress my scarred cheek. I swallowed, this time not all that interested in where that hand had previously been but more interested in the fact that it was now caressing me and not anybody else.

"But-a so young-a. What-a is your-a birthday?" Asked Pavi suddenly as he turned, swirling nearly as he made his way over to his closet, pressing a button as it opened and bars with clothing emerged from the doors, turning this way and that to present him with different beautiful and proper dress shirts to wear. My eyebrows rose again and I gave him a look.

"Why? Want to bust my birthday cheery or something because your not my first."

"Well-a I was-a just interested. Who-a said everything has-a to be about-a sex!"

"…Your reputation."

"…Hmm." He said, waving it off. I laughed, because that just meant that he knew what I was talking about and wasn't going to deny it.

Pavi suddenly turned to me then, eyeing me up and down.

"Would-a you-a like a tour of-a GeneCo?" he asked, looking me up and down with another predatory look. I swallowed against it, refusing to accept the feelings it stirred in me. Largo, remember Scar, he's a Largo! I tried to shake myself from it as I smiled at him rather nervously.

"Uhm…I…I do need to get home. But look, when I leave, I swear if you really want to seek me out again your slutty ass sister knows exactly where to find me, and you can…call me back here any time you want! –" Pavi looked crestfallen, but thankfully not angry. Hopefully I would get to keep my neck after this comment.

" – And I will come back! But Graverobber probably thinks I'm dead right about now and he deserves to know that I'm still amongst the living!" I said quickly, trying to explain my reasoning to him. He still looked sad, his bowed his head a little bit, pouting like a child, but I think he was accepting it.

"Very-a well than. But-a you will return-a?"

"If you send for me…Not like anybody can really…refuse your father's men." That made Paviche smile and raise his head to look at me once more.

"Besides, your sister gave me a deadline as to when I needed to be out, and I really don't want to meet Luigi Largo up close and personal."  
"Sister is all bark-a and-a no bite! Besides, I could-a tell father!"

"…yes, tell him that I was sent here the night before to give his loving daughter her nightly buzz and you, for some reason, took a liking to me, and now don't want your older brother to stab my guts out? Your father scares me enough as is!"  
"You-a have-a never met-a Papa!"

"No, but seeing him on television is close enough. Same with your brother! Speaking of Luigi, why is he such an asshole?"

Pavi shrugged, sliding into the shirt he chose for the day and moves to button the buttons on it (usually he had a GENtern dressing him).

"Papa raised-a him to be-a GeneCo's heir, ruthless and-a quick to-a anger like-a Papa and then-a got mad-a when Luigi didn't-a turn out perfecto." Said Pavi with a strange look in his eyes as he smoothed down his shirt.

"Your father isn't fond of your brother?" I asked, completely left out of the loop on this one. Like I said, I didn't read up on this shit. GraveRobber did, but he knew I didn't have any interest in it, so he never told me any of it.

Pavi gave a snort at my comment, checking himself in his ever-present mirror.

"Papa isn't-a fond of any of-a us. He-a hates us-all. Says we are-a disappoint-a-ments." He said it in a way that instantly made the mood in the room go dark, and I could quickly feel the sadness of the touched nerve I had hit. I shook my head in disgust, improper parents another pet-peeve of mine. Walking over to him, I laid a hand on his shoulder (a good bit higher than my own).

"Well, your fathers a dumbass. If he isn't happy about the way his children turned out, then its his own damn fault. Parents have no right to complain about their children, because rather they want to admit it to themselves or not, chances are they're the reasons they turned out the way they did. I think YOU turned out pretty good for growing up in…GeneCo, I mean heck, I see this place as Hell its so fucked up. I know the stories about the people that go in and don't come out, and fuck, you probably grew up seeing people shot every day!" I said, trying to sooth the man. His head was bowed now, and he looked suddenly almost like a lost child.

"A-and dis-m-membered. Repo…man." He said quietly. It wasn't a broken whisper, but it was a quiet acknowledgment of something no child should have ever seen. I swallowed, rubbing soothing circles across his back. I wanted to take him into my arms but the logical side of my brain decided against it.

"Well…you see, the guy cant expect you to grow up completely unaffected by that kind of shit. I mean that's just illogical!"

"Well then Papa isn't logical."

"Probably not."

"You-a will come-a back, right?" He said, his voice now almost a whisper as he looked at me with suddenly very beautiful eyes beneath his mask, and I swallowed.

"…Yes, Paviche, I promise, I will come back."


	6. Dumpster Diving

Scars, Knives, and Scalpels

A Repo! The Genetic Opera fanfiction

By: Butterfly Wolf

Disclaimer: I only own Scar. Everything else is owned by the creators and producers of the movie. I make absolutely money.

Authors Note: Sorry it took so long for an update. Let a friend snag my Repo for a while and just recently got it back. Please read and review! Reviews always keep the chapters coming and thank you SO MUCH for those of you that did review!

Chapter: Dumpster Diving

Getting out of the GeneCo building was a good deal easier than getting in. Pavi had told them to grant me access out, and although I passed a sneering Amber on my way out, it was generally uneventful. I was actually almost glad I passed Amber instead of Luigi. Amber I knew I could handle, Luigi, I highly doubted. I was a pretty cool customer most of the time but I wasn't going to test my luck with a side-swipe nut like him.

The air on the outside of the building was almost sickening compared to the GeneCo air. GeneCo air smelled of sterilization and cleansing, the outside air smelled of rot, decay, and pollution, and it was almost like an eye opener too me. When I had first entered GeneCo I had thought the building smelled so terrible, but now that I had been inside for a while and now entered the outer world…I was starting to wonder what was worse…

No matter.

I had shit to do.

So, tilting my hat and making a swirl with my trench coat, I turned on the sidewalk and headed promptly for Graverobber and I's apartment.

Down a dark alley, and through a broken wall, lay a door.

A door that lead to a completely decaying building, well hidden and fully decorated in street saga. So decorated it was that one could barely make out the difference between the door and the wall that encased it. And through this door, was a hide out, an old apartment from the old civilization, full of broken and matted furniture, cracked and holed walls, and missing floor pieces, lit completely by candle light and fire, a testimony to its rot. Graverobber sat calmly on the couch, slowly flipping through the new magazine release he had snagged off some buzzed out hooker. Hmm, Amber had apparently already made schedules to get her appearance changed once again. Not all that shocking. Old news. He sneered at the page in boredom and quickly flipped three more pages just for spite. There had to be something somewhat interesting in this damn thing, other than the Largo slut. HIS Largo slut, thought Graverobber with a grin.

There was a shuffling noise to the left, near the boarded up window, making his eyes shift briefly from the page he had turned too. He raised an eyebrow, listening to the howling of the sirens and noises that often took the streets, searching for a continuance of the unrecognizable noise. There was silence for a few moments, well, past the street noise, and Gravrobber tried to hold his breath.

There it was again!  
That shuffling noise!

Folding up the magazine, he slapped it into his lap to look more closely at the window in confusion, debating rather to get up and look or –

SLAM!

The door crashed open, and there stood a familiar small dark figure in a hat.

"Hey!" said the make-uped man in greeting.

"Bout damn time!" was his fallowing statement as he laid the magazine to his side, standing to greet his friend.

"Thought you were dead man, congrats on making it out alive!"

Scar didn't seem quite so happy to see the larger man.

"YOU!" he hissed, stomping toward him dangerously. Although his actions were harsh, the air about the boy seemed much less menacing, giving Graverobber a more amused feeling from the boys rage.

"You freaking SOUR CUNT! You sent me into the SNAKE PIT! CHRIST! Do you know I all but met all four Largo's in one terrifying and all confusing night of hell! Not to mention woke up half naked in the same room as one!"  
"You WHAT!?"

"SHUT UP! I'M NOT DONE YELLING AT YOU YET! Spent the night drunk with the masked one, running from the slutty one and her ever angered-brother, WHO BY THE WAY, are fucking. You know, just so when your in her great depths, you can think that Luigi Largo has also plundered the great and mysterious deeps of the Grand Canyon, AND I WOKE UP HALF NAKED WITH ALL MY CLOTHS FOLDED AND WASHED! WASHED! GRAVEROBBER I SMELL LIKE LAVENDER! Lavender! My cloths haven't been folded since I STOLE them! Not to mention how unmanly I feel! Pavi must have had them drenched in the shit!" Muttered the boy as he took a sniff of his own shirt, his nose wrinkling at the overbearing sweet smell.

Graverobber stood about a foot away from the smaller man, his face a mask of complete astonishment, eyes wide, eyebrows raised, and lips parted. It took about five seconds before everything clicked.

"You slept with Pavi Largo?" He finally managed to get out with a slight shake of his head.

"I just informed you that your ever present fuck-buddy is screwing her brother at the side and your interested in MY sex life?! What is wrong with you!?"

"Well how do you KNOW they're fucking? Did you see it?" Asked Graverobber, folding his arms across his chest in a defensive manner. Scar could only give a disbelieving look.

"WHAT!? No! You couldn't PAY ME to watch that! Hearing it was more than enough! Not to mention Largo Child Number Three willingly admitted to it."

"Pavi's in on it too?"  
"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!? LEAVE PAVICHE OUT OF THIS! Its your little fuck-toy that does her brother at the side, not Pavi!"

"So it's Paviche now is it? You did fuck him didn't you?"

For about ten seconds I didn't even know how to reply.

"Pavi is like twice my age, why would I fuck him? And all he did was cook me breakfast!"

"Well its more of a manner of HIM fucking YOU, being he IS the sluttiest out of all the Largos." Said Graverobber smugly as he moved to sit back down on the couch, bringing the magazine back into his lap and unfolding it to a random page.  
"WHAT! Yours fucks her own brother!" I yelled, very unpleased with how my yelling at him turned out to be him inquiring on my sex life.  
"How do you know Pavi doesn't too?"  
I stared dumbfounded. He glanced up at me from his magazine after about four seconds of silence.

"While your standing there like a fish, will you make me some fries? You know I cant work that oven worth a damn."

My eyes widened to an impossible level and I think my face started to turn red. No. Fucking. Way.

"YOU MAKE THE DAMN FRIES YOUR OWN FUCKING SELF! I'M GOING OUT TO RETRIEVE SOME OF MY MANHOOD!" I yelled, deciding it wasn't worth the depressed look on Pavi's face I had seen to have returned home to Graverobber, ever present ass that he is. I turned to stomp out.

"I'll take that as a No?" He asked as I was about to slam the door.  
"I'M GONNA GO ROLL AROUND IN A DUMPSTER! Try and smell a little manlier!" Was my ending statement to the conversation and promptly slammed the door behind me.

I sneered as I herd the distant chuckle from the man. Nope, diffidently wasn't worth leaving Pavi and a plate full of eggs for. I hadn't had eggs since…since my sister and I were still together. I shook my head quickly to clear the thought out of my head. Never mind that, I smelled like a damn woman!

"And just for spite, I'm hiding out in Graverobbers dumpster." I muttered to myself with a grin.

"Plllllease Scar, I'll do anything you wantttt."

"You don't HAVE anything I WANT." I growled back at the whore.

"Oh, I'm sure we could come to some agreement…" She purred, running her hand over my shirt. I gave it brief slap, wincing at the idea of my hand and her dirty ass hand coming in contact with each other.

"Touch me again and I'll break the damn thing!" I hissed, clearly not pleased with her.

"What a let down." She muttered, giving me a disgusted look that I gladly returned.

"I cant believe you can even get men to get it up let alone get the let down."

"Ugh!"

"SCARFACE!" yelled a familiar voice from the alley. My head snapped up too look in the direction. Amber. I sneered, her boy toys fallowing closely in stride. I quickly pushed the bitch I was meeting with away from me and ducked quickly into Graverobbers dumpster, slamming the door above me. There was brief cussing as the whore scattered out of the much higher ranking junkies way.

"BRAT!" I herd echoing from outside, sneering at the closeness of it.

There was a knocking on the door above me.  
"Nobody homeeeee." I yelled, wincing as the door was ripped open. Man whores. I sneered at them as one of them grabbed me and yanked me up.  
"Get your shit and come with me." Spat Amber, eyeing me disgustingly as I stood in the green container.

"No!" I yelled back, going to duck down in. Half way down the bitch slammed the door on my head, not only giving me a brief splitting pain but also smashing down my fedora.

I sneered in the dark and slammed the door back open, removing my hat to punch it back out and then putting it roughly back on my head.

"Why in the seven hells would I ever want to go anywhere with YOU!? Don't you have a Graverobbing Fuck Toy you'd much rather take?"

She gave me another sneer, leaning comfortably back on one of her little boy toys.

"Oh I have every intention of meeting up with My Graverobbing Fuck Toy, however, to keep my whining bitch of a brother silent about my terrible habits, I have to deliver his Graverobbing Fuck Toy back to him first."

"HEY! I'm not a Graverobber and I'm not a fuck toy!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Brat, now grab him!"

I went quietly as they grabbed me out of the dumpster, allowing myself to be roughly lead and thrown into the limo waiting at the end of the alley.

"Just for conversation, where does she pick men like you up at?"

I got a blank stare from the sunglasses.


End file.
